


for even the very wise cannot see all ends

by Draco_sollicitus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Dark!Rey, F/M, Force Bond, Force Visions, Hurt/Comfort, Kind Poe Dameron, More like Vision!Rey, Pre-Relationship, brief descriptions of violence, creepy kylo, episode IX speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 19:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: With a Force Vision from the Supreme Leader pushed into her mind, Rey struggles with the call to the Dark Side. Luckily, a kind pilot stops her from being alone in her struggle.





	for even the very wise cannot see all ends

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you wanted some Angsty Damerey tonight.
> 
> **warnings**  
Kylo is creepy and possessive  
Intrusive Force Visions (and intrusive Sith wannabes)

It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before.

A jagged saber, bleeding into the snow as she dragged it behind her, chasing her quarry through the forest: at the last minute, he would turn, and she would stare the failed stormtrooper in the face before she cut him down, barely remembering a time where she counted him as her first and fondest friend.

A cackle ripping from her throat as though it had started in someone’s lungs: Luke Skywalker choking as he fell with his temple, the screams of small children in the distance, drawing her attention and another wicked laugh.

A withered hand extended to her from a throne: Snoke offering her a place at his side, and her weakness winning out over her strength, a black cloak and an army of knights her consolation prize for her soul.

Rey had been confronted with her Darkness over and over again in her dreams, in her spiritual wanderings during meditation. She’d learned how to turn her back on things from nothing but sheer observation - it was all she’d ever known, after all, the back of people (all she’d ever known until a good man pretending to be a stormtrooper pretending to be a rebel pretending to be a killer pretending to be a coward had turned towards her instead and offered her his hand like it was nothing to be so kind). But they were dreams, glimpses of a life she’d rejected in a throne room with the galaxy burning around her - she learned to control the burn, corral it back into a spark that lit a fire under a newborn rebellion. She’d won.

But tonight, she had lost.

Kylo Ren had returned to her, somehow, his mind and soul rent further in half , torn beyond the child Ben, and the monster Ren; something deeper, darker, more powerful consuming him and trying, trying so hard to consume her too.

“ _ Let me show you,”  _ he’d hissed, reaching his hand out towards her in the Force. “ _ What we could be - what  _ you  _ could be _ .”

Rey turned her back on him, heart racing, shaking her head, but he’d appeared in front of her, not bound by space or time or any of it - he’d stood in front of her, eyes red and smile demonic, and he’d stretched his hand out towards her, not to help her, but to  _ hold  _ her worse than the scrapyard of Jakku ever could. 

“ _ You could be so much more,”  _ Kylo insisted, and lightyears away in her small bunk on the Falcon, the Supreme Leader pushed his year-old vision onto her.

(And it wasn’t fair, not when she couldn’t show him her vision of his return to light, such a beautiful vision with all the steps to redemption hidden by the Force and blocked by his own cruelty, it wasn’t Force-damned fair that he could make her watch the galaxy burn down around her at her hands).

She’d stood in a forest, a dual-bladed saber in her hands, a wicked thing with wicked purpose - to maim, to kill, to inspire fear - her cheeks carved hollow by a starvation that was more than hunger, and her eyes alight with a cruelty that surpassed even Kylo Ren’s. The vision let her  _ feel  _ it all, feel it keenly, the power and the rage and the lack of control, let her feel the power of the Dark Side coursing through her veins, more intoxicating than any spice or drink, all the power in the galaxy at her fingertips, and the bodies of her enemies laying at her feet. 

“ _ You could have this,”  _ Kylo murmured in her ear, not unlike a lover, causing shivers of disgust and fear to coil down her spine.

“ _ I don’t want it,”  _ she whispered, her voice weak even to her own ears.

“ _ Liar,”  _ Kylo crooned, his voice more than his own, underlined by another’s voice, far older, and far more cruel, and Rey closed her eyes on the blood-red light emanating from a tortured Kyber crystal and thought of nothing more than the water running under Ahch-To, the Dark and the Light together, the Force in harmony, and when she opened her eyes, the vision was gone.

Kylo remained for a few minutes more before the Bond dragged him away, and she’d collapsed seconds later, her heart racing and mouth dry like she’d run through the desert for hours on end.

“I don’t want it.” She spoke to herself like she had for five thousand nights in a row. “I don’t want that. I don’t want any part of it.”

She’d felt strength, yes, but it was the strength she thought a star must feel as it blossomed into supernova: untamed, all-encompassing, destructive. There was no life in that strength, only a swiftly approaching death. She could take anything she wanted - even ... even  _ love  _ \- but it wouldn’t be hers because she had taken it. 

No logic and no meditation could calm her breathing though, and she put her hands to her temples and closed her eyes, gritting her teeth against the lingering anger she felt against the man who should have been her Master, who should have taken her as a Padawan, the rage against parents who’d left her to die, the fury against the Jedi who’d burned themselves out too quickly to be of any help to her here. 

She couldn’t turn; she wouldn’t.  _ Would she? Had it already begun?  _

Rey was so ensconced in her misery that she nearly missed the knock at her door, but the hesitant voice that spoke through the durasteel panels reminded her that she wasn’t truly alone on this ship, even if she might feel it.

“Rey? You there, Sunshine?” Poe, then. 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s, uh, it’s 0100.”

“Kriff.” Rey buried her face in her knees. “I missed the shift change.”

“Ye-eah,” Poe dragged the word out. “...You also missed dinner.”

Her stomach snarled at the idea of food, and Rey groaned, embarrassment blooming in her chest. Of  _ course  _ she had to pick right now, mid-mission with Poe Dameron, to have a confrontation with Kylo and her own darkness. 

“I’ll come fly,” Rey said, choosing to ignore the pressing issue of her hunger (something she was good at). “Sorry about that.”

Her legs wouldn’t let her stand though, and a second later, Poe coughed. 

“Do you ... are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Rey spoke automatically. “I’m fine.”

“Can I come in?” 

She frowned at the control panel, reaching out to the Force, and tripped the mechanism for the door to open.

Poe stood there, sans jacket, his white shirt unbuttoned slightly, and his curls tousled. He smiled kindly at her. 

“Neat trick, Jedi.”

Rey grunted, her cheeks slightly pink at the compliment - she was glad for the reason to use the Force because it helped to calm her roiling anxiety.

“Bee-Bee-Ate?” She said the droid’s name like a question, tilting her head when she didn’t see the round, cheerful droid. 

“Is in the cockpit with Finn, trying to encourage him to keep flying.” Poe smirked at her, and she noticed, not for the first time, the circles under his eyes. 

Guilt rose in her then, sharp and crushing.

“I’m so sorry.” She stood hastily, using her staff to straighten up. “I - I lost track of time, and - you should have sent Bee-Bee to come get me! I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be dead weight-”

“We figured it was,” Poe shrugged with an air of non-nonchalance she envied, “some important Jedi stuff.”

“No.” Rey laughed bitterly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Not important at all.” Shame forced her to say, “...Not sure it was Jedi  _ stuff  _ either.”

“Oh.” Poe was pink in the face the next time she looked at him. “Is it, uh, y’know,” he gestured hopelessly before straightening his spine and looking at her firmly with an oddly placed determination, “Girl-stuff?”

“Girl-stuff?” Rey repeated, surprised enough that she was shaken from her previous stupor.

She was already grinning when Poe began to explain. “Sorry. Woman - woman-stuff. Menstrual cycles...and things...and...I don’t know, women like ... small animals ... and droids! Maybe you were thinking about droids! Or - or fighting. Lots of girls - women - like fighting, and-”

“Poe,” Rey laughed in earnest now, raising her hand, wondering when she became more calm in social situation than  _ Poe Dameron,” _ I get it. And no - no, not like that at all.”

“Gotcha.” Poe heaved a relieved sigh and collapsed on her bunk. “Thank the gods for that.”

(Rey tried very hard not to think about how the ace pilot of the Resistance, the flyboy who everyone talked about, the most handsome lifeform she’d ever met, looked sitting on her cot, his hands splayed out behind him, his tousled curls mussed and the line of his throat distracting in a way that was unfair but a different kind of unfair that Force visions being forced on her).

Her thoughts circled back to the reason for her silence that evening, and she crossed her arms in front of her again, feeling wrong-footed and awkward and grieved again. 

“Rey?” Poe frowned at her. “Do you want me to leave?”

“I-” Rey shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know why you’d want to stay.”

_ Why anyone would want to stay.. _

“What d’you mean?” Poe sat forward now, resting his elbows on his knees. “Hey - c’mere.” She took a step forward, hesitantly, as he patted the bunk. “I mean, only if you want to,” he hastened to say, and Rey smiled before folding herself down to sit next to him.

Their legs were the roughly the same length, and their knees bumped together in the cramped space (and Rey felt anything but cramped, other than the fear still crowding her lungs).

“Why don’t you think I’d want to stay?” Poe asked curiously, his eyes searching her face. 

“Because, I,” Rey struggled with the words. “I’m … I’m not a Jedi. Not really.”

“Okay.” Poe shrugged. “And I’m not a bantha. What’s your point?’ 

She snorted, and he bumped his shoulder into hers. 

“I mean - I’m supposed to be a Jedi, right?’

“I don’t know.” Poe stared thoughtfully at the opposite wall in the bunk. “What’s the other option?”

Rey waited for three seconds before she answered, the fear choking her. “...Sith.”

“The galaxy isn’t just Sith and Jedi, Sunshine.” Poe smiled at her when she looked over. “There’s room for plenty of types: pirates and soldiers, farmers and pilots. If you aren’t a Jedi, it doesn’t meant you’re a Sith.”

“It feels …” Rey placed a hand on her stomach. “Rotten inside of me sometimes.”

“I think that’s because you skipped dinner,” Poe joked, and Rey shot him a frustrated look. “Sorry.” He smiled at her, but it was a tired smile this time. “I use humor as a defense mechanism. At least, that’s what the good doc told me when I went in for my sessions.”

Rey wrinkled her nose, not quite understanding. “Sessions?”

Poe let out a breath, his shoulders slumping noticeably. By this point, their sides were pressed together, but it didn’t make the anxiety spike in her chest the way proximity to Poe Dameron usually would; instead, the proximity let something unfurl in her chest, soothing the snarl that had formed when Kylo reached into her mind that night. 

“I lost someone,” he said, his eyes tightening like it still caused him pain (and Rey, who’d never stopped mourning people she’d never really met, understood). “Someone important to me - he died in front of me during a mission that had gotten kriffed beyond all recognition. Leia convinced me to defect to the Resistance after, but under the caveat that I go to therapy.”

“Therapy.” Rey repeated the foreign word carefully. “Sounds painful.”

“It was,” Poe laughed, the tightness not gone from his eyes (and maybe it had never really left in the first place, maybe she’d never noticed it before, too distracted by how bright his smile was, how pretty his laugh was, how soft his voice was). “It was very - but we’re not talking about me. You said you think something’s rotten inside of you?”

“I’m afraid that I’ll fall,” Rey said bluntly, skipping the part where Kylo Ren was showing up in her bunk and trying to lure her away from the Light. “I’m afraid that I’ll fail and I’ll hurt everyone I love, and that the Dark will win.”

“You won’t.” Poe said simply, shrugging casually.

“How do you know that?” Rey scoffed. “You can’t know that.”

“I can.” Poe smiled at her winningly this time. “I’ve got a pretty good read on things, people, situations usually.”

“...You got shot two weeks ago,” Rey reminded him, eyebrows raised. “Because you forgot that you’d beat that trader in sabacc twelve years ago.”

“I can’t remember everyone I’ve beaten in sabacc,” Poe protested, hands spread wide, one of his hands stretching out in front of her.

Giggling, she swatted the hand away, and he caught it, his expression suddenly serious. Their hands, entangled, fell to the limited space between their legs, and Rey swore she saw another connection forge itself in the Force, threads weaving together and forming a bond that meant more than one she’d never wanted any part of.

Or she was letting her wishful thinking get away from her.

“You won’t fall,” Poe murmured. “And if anything - anyone - is telling you differently, it’s because they can’t handle the truth.”

For an uncomfortable moment, Rey wondered how much Poe knew, how much he’d inferred from the times where she’d stare into space, distracted and fearful of the man standing in front of her with a scar on his face and a worse wound in his soul. She wondered how much Poe Dameron, hurt as he was by this war, understood about how she’d been hurt, and how she was hurting.

“What’s the truth?” Rey asked, her eyes not leaving his as she asked. 

“You’re good,” Poe said simply, squeezing her hand, and letting the words sink into her like a balm on a burn. “You’re so good, Rey.”

She wanted to argue it, wanted to say nothing good was left inside of her, but there were few people in the galaxy more convincing than Poe Dameron, and she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him more than she wanted to believe Kylo Ren, than she wanted to believe the Dark Side could really save her.

“You are too,” she whispered, the air between them tense and soft all at once. “You’re a good man, Poe Dameron.”

He smiled, the tightness still around his eyes, the weight still around his shoulders, and he stroked his rough-calloused thumb over her knuckles. 

For a long moment, she thought he would kiss her, really kiss her the way she’d seen in holoreels and before missions on the flight deck. For a moment, Rey thought Poe Dameron would kiss her, and she knew she would let him. 

Instead, he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“People like you make it easy to be,” he said into her skin, his breath warming her from the tips of her fingers right into the space around her heart.

He squeezed her hand before letting it go, and Rey, ever curious, let her hand linger on his jaw, marveling at the rough texture of his stubble under the pads of her fingers, let her thumb run across his full bottom lip, wondering what softness it would promise her if she replaced her thumb with her mouth.

Poe smiled, that heartbreaking combination of soft mouth and tight eyes, and nodded to the door.

“I think Finn could use a relief pilot,” he said quietly, and Rey nodded, dropping her hand to her thigh and smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in her leggings.

“Right.” She stood and nodded again. “Of course.”

She reached the door when Poe spoke again, still sitting on her bunk: “I’ll bring by some grub in a few,” he promised, and Rey turned to smile at him over her shoulder.

“I’ll hold you to that, flyboy.” She smirked, an expression she’d learned from him, and headed down the corridor towards the cockpit.

For a terrible, awful moment, the Force yawned open, and she felt Kylo Ren’s eyes on her. She felt the vision from before stretching out to wrap around her again, felt it reaching for her, making false promises of safety and security and strength -

Rey ran her thumb along her knuckles, where the ghost of Poe’s whisper lingered. She didn’t even glance at Kylo, and walked to the cockpit with her head held high, walked towards her friend and not towards the Dark.

And she didn’t doubt a single step.

**Author's Note:**

> sat down to work on a short story for submission to a contest and wrote this instead.
> 
> thanks for reading


End file.
